


Playing the Part

by ephemera (incognitajones)



Series: Improvisation [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Imperial Jyn Erso, Undercover Cassian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 03:53:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18307649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitajones/pseuds/ephemera
Summary: Cassian had been an agent long enough to act on impulse occasionally; sometimes you had to trust your gut.





	Playing the Part

**Author's Note:**

> A long time ago in Tolkien fandom, we used to give a gift to the community at large on our birthday (because it's a thing that hobbits do)... here's a small present for all those in the Star Wars and Rogue One fandoms who've made them so welcoming over the past few years. I hope I've done the same for you.
> 
> This year I took a poll on what to write & the winner was a sequel to a short AU prompt fill I'd written. The following story should hopefully be understandable without having read the prompt fill first, but if you'd like to, it's [here](https://incognitajones.tumblr.com/post/173279346548/from-the-50-dialogue-prompts-your-choice-45).

Cassian took Erso’s hand and pulled her, unresisting, out of Krennic’s study and toward the dancefloor. A new tune had just started, and they were spiralling through the crowd in each other’s arms, rotating in the precise patterns of a Kumasi waltz before he had a moment to think about what he’d done. 

Asking her to dance was an improvisation, but Cassian had been an agent long enough to act on impulse occasionally. Sometimes you had to trust your gut, even though Kaytoo hated it. He always complained that humans shouldn’t try to change plans on the fly; according to him, their brains weren’t capable of processing simulations and calculating odds quickly enough.

Cassian didn’t know what Kay would make of Jyn Erso. Her file suggested just another vapid technocrat, in her position mostly due to nepotism and the fact that even rich people needed something to do all day. But something about her didn’t quite add up; he couldn’t make the variables fit the usual equation. 

The fact that her first reaction when he caught her trying to access Krennic’s personal terminal had been to try and talk her way out of it with a clumsy attempt to seduce him, rather than simply call in her boss and have him reprimanded—that was unusual. She didn’t have the unthinking arrogance of someone used to having her every whim obeyed without question.

So what was she hiding? Was it as simple and boring as larceny, or an unapproved affair? That would be useful, something Cassian could leverage into access through blackmail. Or was it more complicated than that? Galen Erso was an old associate of Krennic’s, and his daughter had been part of the Commander’s orbit for years. She might have been told to watch Willix, or want to take Krennic down for reasons of her own. Imperial infighting could be more poisonous than a pit of writhing sand-eels; Cassian had seen colleagues report each other for nothing more than another pip on their rank badge.

She was light on her feet as she followed his lead, but not a graceful dancer; she felt brittle in his arms, her spine as rigid as though it would snap before it bent. She stared fixedly at a point just under his left ear rather than meet his gaze. Her fingers were icy cold in his grip. With her pale skin and shimmering silver gown, she reminded him of the snow shadows of Fest who were supposed to appear when you were out in the storm, lost in a blizzard. The stories differed as to whether they led you to safety or death.

What was it about Erso that had caught his attention? Cassian knew what Kay would say, but he was too experienced to let hormones affect his judgment on assignment—and so what if she was beautiful? A hundred other people in this room were just as beautiful, each one of them polished to that flawless sheen that only Imperial affluence could achieve.

Maybe it was that simple: Jyn Erso wasn’t perfect. There was a raw need to her, something she couldn’t quite hide completely, as hard as she tried. As improbable as it seemed, maybe he was the only one who’d noticed the hairline cracks in her façade.

In a crowd of tipsy, chattering dancers, the cold silence between them was too noticeable. Willix cleared his throat and opened with the most boring, conventional gambit imaginable. “You dance very well for someone who spends most of her time in a lab, Miss Erso.”

She lifted her gaze to his. Her green eyes were like the ice of a frozen river, and again he had the sense of treacherous hidden currents racing underneath her smooth surface. “I enjoy dancing,” she said coolly, matching his blandness.

Cassian tried again. “And your work? Do you enjoy that too?” A touch obvious, but again, Willix wasn’t a subtle man.

“Most of the time.”

Rebel Intelligence hadn’t been able to dig up anything memorable about this woman; the fact that she was the daughter of a noted Imperial research scientist and his dead wife, a known Republic sympathizer, was the only unusual fact in her file. Perhaps they should have excavated deeper. Most people weren’t so thoroughly colourless and boring—not unless, like him, they had something else to hide.

But even his current Willix persona had a few black marks in his files: all carefully chosen to suggest a certain moral flexibility, of course, which might come in handy on this mission. Because someone in this room, someone in Krennic’s orbit, was the most likely source of the encrypted message sent to Rebel Intelligence, claiming to have proof that the Empire was building a superweapon capable of destroying entire planets. As implausible as that seemed, history had shown that if the Empire could, they would. Cassian had had the right cover to get into Krennic’s base. Now he had to determine who'd sent the message, make contact with them somehow, find out if they were a legitimate source—and where to go from there. 

It would be a delicate mission, and Erso hadn’t been part of the rough plan. Willix had no reason to pay any particular attention to her, and now he’d been seen with her by half the brass of this installation. But dancing with her in public was less dangerous than turning her down altogether, and much less conspicuous than letting her tow him off into a dark corner for whatever she’d had in mind. Still, his mind couldn’t stop analyzing and calculating, turning all the questions posed by this woman over at various angles. What had she been doing in Krennic’s study? What did she want?

The music ended and she slipped out of his arms, as cold and distant as snow sifting through trees. “Thank you for the dance, Lieutenant Willix.” Her voice was still a mix of bored and dismissive. “I think I'll sit the next one out.” 

Abruptly Cassian decided that this had gone on long enough. As the crowd around them eddied with dancers mixing in new configurations, he put one hand on her hip—much lower than polite, but it was either that or touch the bare skin revealed by her dress—and guided her off the dance floor. He wasn’t letting her get away so easily. “Let me get you a drink first.”

At the bar, he ordered her a glass of sweet sparkling wine as a courteous dance partner should. Willix was used to the strictures of formal Imperial etiquette, but Cassian was still impatient enough to find their restrictions frustrating. “You wanted to talk,” he bent to murmur in her ear as he pressed the stem of the glass into her hand. “Let’s talk.” 

She took a small sip and scanned the room past his shoulder as though looking for a friend. “Fine. Follow me in a minute. Just don’t be too obvious.”

Cassian didn’t laugh. He nodded and watched her leave the room, her back straight and her steps even, without a single glance backward. He waited two beats, three, and then followed.

At the end of the dim hallway, he saw the hem of her silver dress whisk around a corner—in the opposite direction from Krennic’s private study, where he’d caught her before. 

Cassian rounded the corner cautiously, braced for sudden ambush. But Erso was only standing on a tiny semi-circular balcony overlooking the wide tidal river that flowed through this seaside city. One of the moons was full, its orange-tinted disc overwhelming the other two smaller satellites, and the tide was half-high, sea-water aglow with bioluminescence mixing with dark freshwater. It was the kind of secluded nook designed for illicit trysts and whispered conversations; no-one would think anything of a couple sharing the small space. Not a bad choice, even for an amateur. 

Amateurs were dangerous when cornered, Cassian reminded himself. He wondered what odds Kay would calculate on one of them going into the water within the next five minutes. 

Erso propped her arms on the rail, dangling her glass carelessly over the edge, and stared out over the rippling water. The breeze ruffled her hair and teased strands loose from its intricate coronet, lifting them from her forehead. Despite the pallor of her skin, she must have been hot inside the crowded ballroom; when she shivered, her dress shimmered like the moonlight on the shining water.

He leaned on the rail beside her, his elbow brushing hers—close enough to be a little intimidating, not crowding enough to threaten. He wanted answers instead of a fainting fit. Without turning his head he scanned her profile, backlit clear and delicate against the night sky.

“What were you doing in the Director’s office?” he asked. “You know it’s security clearance Aurek only. You shouldn’t be in there on your own.” His tone was mildly lecturing, as though he didn’t suspect her of anything more than a minor infraction.

She set her drink down on the wide railing and turned to him, looking up from under her lashes in a way calculated to make her seem fragile, her expression carefully open and guileless. 

“I wanted to talk to my father.” She swallowed and glanced away, her whole demeanor projecting candid sincerity. “All his communications from Eadu are monitored, I understand why… but I’m worried that he’s feeling over-worked on this project and won’t admit it. He’s getting older, he’s not as strong as he used to be.” She reached out and laid her hand on his forearm, lightly; but before tonight, it had been a long time since anyone touched Lieutenant Willix, and Cassian fought to hold still. “If you’d let me speak to him on a private channel, you could listen to the whole thing, I promise. I have nothing to hide.”

It was a decent story, plausible; it might not even be a lie. But she’d skimmed over why she was so desperate to talk to her father right now. Did she know that the Rebellion was searching for him? That they’d received a message claiming Erso was the lead on the supposed weapons project?

Cassian curled his fingers around her elbow, just as lightly, mirroring her touch on his arm because mimicking actions was a way to build trust subconsciously. “Why would it be alright for me to hear your conversation, but not Director Krennic?”

Even with his back to the corridor, Cassian shouldn’t have been surprised by what happened next: Kay would have lectured him for not maintaining sufficient peripheral awareness. But all the warning he had was the light tap of a bootheel behind him and the flickering of Erso’s gaze. She launched herself toward him, her other hand yanking on his belt to haul him closer. He barely got one hand up and in between them, ready to counter whatever attack she was about to make. Embarrassingly, it wasn’t until her mouth smashed into his that he realized what she was doing. 

Cassian listened to impulse again. Instead of pushing her away, he let his hand come to rest on her bare shoulder and let her kiss him, even dipping his head so that she didn’t have to stretch up so far. She was fierce and aggressive, treating the kiss like an argument she intended to win, and part of him couldn’t help but be curious whether this was any closer to the real Jyn Erso. He had no idea why she was trying this ploy now; maybe she honestly thought Willix would be so easy to persuade. 

“ _There_ you are, Jinny!” Krennic’s unctuous voice was one of the most irritating things about him, in Cassian’s opinion, only surpassed by the affectation of that stupid cape. “Please, don’t let me interrupt. I was just wondering where you were hiding.”

And there was his answer; she’d been using Willix as a shield. At this angle, her face was still concealed from Krennic behind Cassian. She closed her eyes for an instant as her jaw clenched, and a swift tremor shook her whole body. It could have been fear, but to Cassian it looked more like barely contained rage and hatred. 

“I see Lieutenant Willix has been showing you a good time.”

Cassian turned, screening Erso with his shoulder. “Trying to,” he found himself saying with a touch of insolence, staring Krennic straight in the eye. He felt Erso freeze again and then force herself to thaw, leaning into his side ever so slightly. 

Fuck it, it worked for this cover: Jyn was beautiful and Willix had eyes. And he was ambitious enough that trying to get into bed with Krennic’s god-daughter would be in character. 

But that was all justification after the fact. Cassian didn’t know why he’d put himself between Jyn Erso and Krennic. They were both Imperials, after all, and Krennic was no worse than the average Imperial officer—at least, he wasn’t one of those with a reputation discussed in hushed tones. 

“I know when I’m not wanted. Have fun, Jinny, but don’t do anything I’ll have to tell your father about.” Krennic smirked at them and swept off, that ridiculous cape rustling behind him.

As soon as Krennic was out of sight, Jyn jerked away from Cassian and leaned against the balcony railing again, just a little too heavily. She picked up her drink and Cassian noted the faint quiver of the liquid in the glass betraying the unsteadiness of her hands. She choked down the rest of it in one gulp, her smile as stiff as a corpse. “Orson’s a bit over-protective, as you can see.”

Jyn Erso loathed Krennic. Her mother had been anti-Imperial. She wanted to talk to her father, who was rumoured to be willing to offer intelligence to the Rebels. She was trying very hard to hide something, and managing decently well for someone who’d never been trained for anything more dangerous than testing the precision of a laser array. The factors of the equation slotted into place in Cassian’s head, and the solution was startling—but it fit. 

He stepped closer, watching her carefully, and put his hands on the railing to either side of her, caging her in. He bent his head to bring his lips close to her temple, hidden from any cameras that might be concealed in the architecture, in a gesture that would look like another kiss. His arm pressed against her side as he breathed into her ear, “I’ve heard your father might be working on something called the Death Star.”

She froze into absolute stillness, except for the pulse beating in her throat. He gripped her arms in case she was about to crumple to the ground, or try to throw him into the water. But she only lifted her face to his and whispered against his cheek, “Even stars eventually become stardust.” 

Her voice was nearly inaudible, but that was the code phrase in the original message. As impossible as it seemed, this unobtrusive woman was the one who claimed to have the knowledge of an Imperial superweapon. 

Still standing as close as a lover, or a betrayer, Cassian gave her the code name she’d recognize. “Call me Fulcrum. If you'll trust me, I can get you out of here.” 

He felt the shock of surprise run through her body and her balance wobble again. She clutched at his shoulders, gripping them tightly enough to crease his uniform. Her lips parted, her eyes widened and he saw hope shining in their green depths. “What about my father?”

Cassian tried not to think about the times he hadn’t been able to justify rousing that hope in others. He wanted to be able to live up to that trust, to give both her and her father a way out. He couldn’t say yes… but he didn’t say no. 

Her hands loosened, dropping back to her sides, and Cassian stepped away, opening a more prudent space between them. She blinked, breaking the charged contact of their eyes, and turned back toward the river that still flowed in braided light and dark streams. “I was expecting a friend of mine. A pilot.”

“Yes, I’ve met him.” Cassian swallowed, reluctant to tell her the rest. But if she asked why Rook hadn’t contacted her... “He’s been ill.”

Her hands clenched on the wide railing, knuckles whitening. “Will he recover?” 

“I don’t know,” Cassian answered. “But they’re doing what they can.”

He looked over his shoulder. The music was quieter; the party was winding down. They could slip out unnoticeably with the departing crowds, looking like a couple on their way to an assignation. “We should go now.” 

Jyn squared her shoulders in a way that spoke of gathering her strength before she turned around. Her eyes searched his face, her brows furrowed slightly, and he wondered what she saw. Was he as transparent to her as she was to him? The idea ought to have been terrifying to a spy, but he found it weirdly exhilarating. 

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Let's go."

He held out his hand, and she took it.


End file.
